


It's All Business in the Left Hand Lane

by nowavailableinthesky



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Gen, Vignette, and not quite a song fic, but a comfortable in-between, not quite a road trip fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9313994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowavailableinthesky/pseuds/nowavailableinthesky
Summary: She’s got an iPod, a brand-new leather jacket and a car with just enough gas in it to get her out of this town. Maggie thumps the hood hard enough that it stings her palm, then grins up at the Nebraska sky.“You and me, babe. Me and you.”----Basically I just wanted an excuse to step into Maggie's mind and to scroll through my playlists. A series of vignettes/a character study of Maggie Sawyer and her relationships with the Danvers siblings (and a Luthor).





	1. in the town of your reasons to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Current plan is to do nine chapters, with three apiece for Maggie's interactions with Alex, Lena, and Kara. Takes place (mostly) in the canon universe - though as a fair warning, I may play around with the timeline occasionally. This particular chapter takes place after 2x07.
> 
> Pro tip: Read this chapter while cradling a cup of bad coffee. Top off at the end w/Gotye's 'Night Drive' if you're feeling melancholy.

 

_…you gave me a doorknob_

_as a gift. I am still learning to be an open_

_road to the tree that can be climbed to safety._

_\- Clotheslines - Andrea Gibson_

 

\---- 

 

“Shotgun picks the music.”

Maggie’s got a tighter grip on the wheel than she’d like, but considers it a point of pride that she still manages to smile brightly (she hopes) over at Alex in the passenger seat. Alex, who looks guarded as fuck. Alex, who’s got an eyebrow raised and who, for a solid three-and-a-half seconds, seems as though she’s remembering that - aside from a minor snafu in three separate federal jurisdictions, thus requiring a trip to LA to sort out the paperwork on behalf of their superiors, one of whom includes the man/alien who writes her paychecks - there is absolutely nothing stopping her from fleeing the car this instant.

She takes the iPod.

Maggie brings her hand back to the steering wheel and lets out a small breath. Starts the car. From the corner of her eyes she can see Alex hunched over the beat-up iPod, clicking through songs and albums. She wrenches her attention away - time to focus. They’re on their way now, on the interstate out from National City, a gently winding road through the desert where they’ll be for the next two hours until they reach LA. Maggie drums her fingers on the wheels a bit, shifts in her seat. Wonders idly whether she should dust the top of the rearview mirror, if that’s a thing people do.

And then, drums and a guitar riff fill the car. Maggie feels her jaw drop so far it practically hits the brakes. That’s- fuck, what a throwback. That’s Good Charlotte’s _Dance Floor Anthem_. What the-

She looks over at Alex, who’s side-eying her right back, her jaw clenched. A single eyebrow raised. And- is that a hint of a smile?

 _She’s going out to forget they were together_ , the song starts. _All that time he was taking her for granted..._

And Maggie’s honestly feeling kind of slapped in the face right now and the teeniest bit impressed at the sheer guts and audacity of the woman sitting next to her. Of course, Alex looks nothing short of smug now. (It’s because she knows she’s being a beautiful little shit.) Maggie scoffs and rolls her eyes before reaching out a hand to casually crank the volume up.

It pulses now, the beats and music. Halfway through the first stanza, Maggie wets her lips. Starts singing soft and light. Rolls her head to her right, sees that Alex is biting her lip. _She don’t care..._

Then the chorus hits, and Alex starts singing, too. Moderately at first, her arm spread against the window ledge and clicking at the pull-lock, other hand resting in her lap. By the time the second chorus hits, they’re both singing loudly, each trying to outdo the other. Maggie starts harmonizing, seat-dances with one hand on the wheel and the other clutched to her jacket for dramatic emphasis. Alex is air-drumming, mimes hitting the dashboard in front of her.

The song slows at the second-to-last stanza and it’s painful, how it’s reduced to a soft beat and the sound of their voices layering over each other. Joel Madden tells them _it’s okay, let it go - get out there and find someone_. The car suddenly seems like a vast, empty concert hall. Like an echoing closet.

They’re both still singing by the time last string of choruses hit but it’s subdued. Maggie sings the lyrics to the windshield, feels the tension that radiates up the steering wheel and through her shoulders. Her voice fails her on the last “ _Feelin’ good now_ ," and Alex is left to carry the song out, her lovely voice dimming and trailing off. When Maggie glances over, the agent is lost in thought.

They stop the car twice after that, once at a rest stop (Maggie tells herself it’s the sound of the car door slamming shut that she flinches at, and not the sight of Alex’s long strides, the sight of her back as she leaves) and once in the LA courthouse parking garage when they finally arrive. It’s easy after that for a while to get lost in unfortunately necessary bureaucracy, in long minutes of waiting and checking their phones at the desks of frazzled office assistants.

The takeout Chinese they grab that night tastes rubbery to Maggie and she only manages to swallow a few mouthfuls before lobbing it into a nearby trashcan and offering to drive on the way back, too. Smiles and says it’s okay, really, she’s always been a night owl and she likes driving. Alex falls asleep in what seems like minutes, head slumping onto the seatbelt strap. Her arm stretches the length of the passenger side window, jammed right against it, and when Maggie glances over (once) (twice) (again, and again) she sees the desert nightscape with Alex’s sleeping figure as the frame for it.

The iPod sits untouched and unplugged, jostling around in the cupholder the whole way back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic title is from Dan Mangan's song Road Regrets, and chapter title is from the poem Clotheslines by Andrea Gibson. Next chapter will have more dialogue, I promise. Catch me on tumblr @nowavailableinthesky!


	2. how every mouth sings of what it's without.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of feelings about queer Christians. (Read: I love you all so, so much and you give me life.) Here's for all the places we've left, all the places we've stayed, & all the places we've made.
> 
> This chapter contains brief talk of bodily injury, internalized homophobia, more talk on religion, and a small slew of swear words.

  

_Do you believe in justice? Justice for all!_

_¿Y en la nueva vida? En su espíritu!_

_¿Quién es su liberación? Tú, Señor!_

_Arriba! Proclamen! Santa tierra!_

_We are on holy ground!_

 

_\- On Holy Ground - Donna Peña_

 

\----

 

 

Maggie takes Eliza’s statement, drops it off at the station, heads back to the hospital to check in on the Danvers and sees through the door of Eliza’s temporary room that they’re all leaned against each other on the bed, talking quietly among themselves.

It’d been a rough night – sometime around one or two in the morning, someone had broken into the Danvers’ home and knocked Eliza unconscious. She’d woken up to a broken arm and a ransacked house. When the 911 call came through, Maggie’s buddy in dispatch had let her know that there’d been an incident involving a Danvers. Cue Maggie’s heart leaving her fucking body and not beating properly again until she’d made it to the hospital and seen Alex, tired and sad and in one piece.

One piece. The Danvers women do not break easy. She lightly raps the wood of the wall - not loud enough to be heard, more an action done as a quiet thank you to luck or fate or whatever - and only hesitates a moment before veering off down the hall to where she knows the hospital’s nondenominational chapel is.

It’s a standard nondescript, tidy room. Altar at the front, neat rows of chairs, some pretty artwork on the walls. Light streams through stained-glass windows. A few people are there, scattered through the room; she spots Lena Luthor seated towards the back looking only slightly disheveled – a miracle given the early time at which she’d shown up at the hospital, eyes wide and full of concern. Maggie had half-expected the Luthor to flit in and out in a swirling storm of dollar bills. That’s what rich people do, right? But the woman’d merely sat down next to Maggie, introduced herself, and proceeded to pull out a tablet. She’d stayed.

So now Maggie quietly moves to take a seat a few rows ahead and to the right of Lena. They nod at each other, not breaking the silence.

She lets out a long sigh and closes her eyes, allowing herself to slouch down in the seat as far as she’s able. The quiet sinks in, calms the buzzing nervous energy that’d been under her skin these past few hours. Several long minutes pass and she finds herself nearly dozing off.

Then her stomach growls. Growls _very_ loudly. Maggie jerks upright as a few heads turn. She slouches back down hurriedly, trying her level best to look unconcerned.

A minute later a hand touches her shoulder. She looks up to see Lena, one perfect eyebrow arched. The woman jerks her head towards the chapel’s exit and Maggie follows, eager to get away.

Her phone buzzes just as they leave the chapel. It’s Alex.

 

 **_7:38am_ ** _thank you_

 **_7:38am_ ** _Mom’s getting discharged now, Kara and I are going to take her home_

 **_7:39am_ ** _where are you? we want to say goodbye before we head out_

 

She types a quick response, then looks up at the woman waiting patiently beside her.

“Hey, Alex and Kara are headed our way – they want to say goodbye before they take Eliza home.”

Lena nods. “Would you be interested in getting breakfast together? I could use some company – my next meeting isn’t until 11.” Maggie knows the offer isn’t entirely casual – not after the minor earthquake the entire chapel had heard earlier. Even now her stomach rumbles at the mere mention of food. She glances down at it, then back up at Lena.

“That’s a yes from me.”

“Wonderful!” She’s got a lovely smile, much of the tension from the earlier events having eased.

“Hey,” a familiar voice chimes in from down the hall. They turn and see the Danvers sisters coming toward them, both looking a little haggard but calmer than they’d been earlier. Both their faces seem to light up as they draw close.

Maggie puts a hand on Alex’s lower back, who immediately tucks her head into the crook of Maggie’s neck.

“I dropped the statements off with Baker not too long ago. I’m going to check back in this afternoon, see if I can’t get more information. You say the word and I’ve got your back, okay, babe?”

“Thank you,” Alex whispers.

“Anytime."

“How’re you holding up?”

Alex sighs. “I’m – I’m alright. The break was pretty bad and I don’t know, it looks weird on the x-rays. Something doesn’t feel like it should about this, but I – I’m just really happy that mom’s alright.”

She tightens her grip on Maggie’s waist. “Kara’s still beating herself up about not getting there in time and I haven’t been able to talk her down from that yet.”

When Maggie looks over, she can see Kara and Lena deep in their own small conversation, heads tilted towards each other. Lena’s got a comforting grasp on Kara’s upper arm. As Maggie watches, Kara leans in to give her a hug. The two seem to linger in their shared space as they pull apart.

“Maybe Lena will be able to talk some sense into Little Danvers.”

“God, I hope so. It’s gonna have to be later, though – we promised Mom we’d go home and get some sleep.” She kisses Maggie quickly, then rests her forehead on Maggie’s.

“Thanks again. I know Kara and I were a bit crazy earlier, but it really helped having you here.” Maggie grins. She’s so soft for this woman, it isn’t even funny.

“Like I said, Alex. Anytime.”

They look up as a doctor pushing a wheelchair approaches the women. In the seat Eliza looks rather disgruntled, clearly past ready to leave. With a final kiss to the cheek, Alex walks over and Maggie feels more than sees Lena come up beside her to take her place. Together they watch the scene – Alex negotiating paperwork while Kara cheerfully speaks with their grumbling mother, lightly gripping her uninjured hand. 

“Breakfast?” Lena repeats her earlier offer.

“Have I ever told you you’re brilliant?”

“Not yet, though I welcome any and all future sentiments to that effect.” She gestures toward the exit. “Lead the way?”

 

It’s a brisk walk to the parking lot, the early spring air cool in the morning. Maggie pulls out her keys, points to an older-looking car.

“Here she is. Hop in, she should be fairly clean.”

“She?” Lena asks as she straps herself in. 

“Yep. Name’s Betsy – she was a gift of sorts from my uncle.” Maggie runs a loving hand over the dashboard. “He drifted off when I was in the middle of training at the police academy.” She starts the engine, cranes her head back to check for pedestrians. 

“He’s got a combo of ADHD and bipolar disorder and likes to party a bit, so it wasn’t really a surprise for any of us when he just picked up and moved to somewhere in Boulder – something about an idea he and his buddy had for a business startup. Betsy just sat around after that, so when I graduated the academy she kind of became mine.”

“That’s lovely.”

“Yeah. My uncle’s married now, has a kid with another on the way. Betsy’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten, though.” 

When they arrive at the local diner it’s to quiet chatter, the scent of coffee and syrup strong in the air. The diner is all vinyl seats, smooth white tabletops and vintage advertisements hung on the walls. Lena and Maggie head past the bar stools towards a booth near the rear by the diner’s windows. As they sit and arrange themselves comfortably across from each other, Lena focuses an intent gaze on Maggie.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“You and Agent Danvers.” 

“Are dating, yes.” Maggie can’t help what she knows must be a goofy look that comes over her face. She hides it by flipping open the menu.

“You must be the detective, then. Kara did mention that her sister was dating someone, though I didn’t get many details apart from…a pineapple incident of some sort? Kara was a bit vague when she mentioned it.”

“Oh my god.” Maggie slams down the menu. "That was Kara?” 

“Presumably, yes. What is this pineapple incident, if you don’t mind me asking?” Maggie sighs, runs a hand over her face.

“It was back when I was being an emotionally distant moron and trying to forget that I had any feelings whatsoever for Alex. I was doing a lot of moping around the precinct so I figured it was one of the guys, you know? Trying to distract me or whatever. Though usually their idea of comforting involves shots, so I really should’ve seen that it wasn’t one of them, damn it. Anyway, so I’m moping one day and this kid in a delivery outfit comes into the bullpen with this huge basket, right?” She pauses as the waitress arrives to take their orders, then leans forward and continues the story.

“So. This kid, a basket, a room full of cops. He couldn’t have been more than a junior in high school, either. Still had braces. But he's staggering under this huge thing, a clipboard balanced god-knows-where in that mess, and he shouts out, ‘Sawyer! I, uh, I got a package for Sawyer!’ So I have no choice but to walk over in the middle of the room and sign the kid’s clipboard while all the guys are starting to heckle me a bit, like, ooooh, Sawyer got a gift, did your girl send you that? and all that. Real fourth grade stuff. And I stagger back to my desk with that plastic-wrapped monstrosity, gotta deal with a small crowd as I get a knife and slice it open.” She mimes the action.

“They’re all shouting out guesses, like, ‘Flowers!’ ‘Fancy soap-things!’ ‘Tickets to a Lakers game!’ Then I get it open and it was pineapples, of all things. Pineapples. _Twenty-four_ of ‘em. They sat around my apartment for weeks, I had to give several to my neighbors just so they wouldn’t go bad.” Maggie sits back, shaking her head.

“So that was Kara?” she says to Lena. "Oh, man. Out of curiosity, what’d she even say to you?”

“Not much. From what I gather in later texts, she was likely drunk at the time. She asked me if I knew any good caterers and then sent me an impressively long text consisting entirely of fruit emojis and sunglasses.”

“Oh, man…I guess I should be grateful that she’s an actual ray of sunshine or I might’ve found myself orbiting Neptune before ever managing to get my shit together.” She sighs, and the two peruse their menus. The waitress comes along and takes their orders before leaving them to a slightly awkward silence.

Lena’s the one to break it. “I have to say, National City’s hospitals are certainly more efficient than the ones in Metropolis. That may have been the shortest visit I’ve known.”

“Oh, God. If that’s the case, remind to never get transferred out of this city. Any longer wait might’ve killed me.”

“Your stomach certainly seemed to think so.”

“I make no apologies. I thought that one guy’s head was going to fly off, though, he glared at me so hard.”

Lena laughs. “Funny, there always seems to be at least one person in every church who takes it upon themselves to remind the rest of the congregation that bodily functions have no place in a house of worship.” Maggie groans.

“I know, right? I spent most of my childhood being like, jeez, just let me sleep through this homily in peace.”

“Me, too. Lex always had to elbow me awake.”

“Yikes. So which particular branch of religious Ambien did you get?”

Lena fidgets, looks embarrassed.

“…I’m Lutheran.”

Maggie does her utmost best to swallow down her sheer delight. 

“That’s – ahem. That’s nice?”

Lena rolls her eyes. “It was through my adoptive grandparents on my mother’s side, if you can believe it, though only my grandmother really made a fuss about it. I doubt they expected their son-in-law to be…quite so enthusiastic about his last name. Thank you,” she says to the waitress as their orders arrive. Maggie does the same.

“In any case, I can’t say I’m serious about my faith. While strides have certainly been made, there’s enough homophobia and sexism that I’m more often content to forget it all. That, and the fact that the last time I went to confession my pastor tactfully brought up the photos he’d seen of me kissing another woman in the tabloids. He was rather offended when I questioned why he was reading the tabloids to begin with.”

“Hey! Queer Christians for the win.” Maggie holds out a fist, waits for Lena to do the same before bumping it. “We’ll unite in hell, have ourselves a nice party.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Lena says, smirking. “And what about you? You don’t have to answer – I noticed your dashboard statue in your car, that’s all."

Maggie swallows a piece of toast, then replies. “Our Lady of Guadalupe, yeah. A gift from my abuela before I headed into the city that first year. Yeah, I’m – I’m Catholic and not? Not sure I know how not to be, to be honest.” She grabs a sugar packet, bites her lip. 

“I want to be but I’m also sick of it. It’s stubbornness more than anything else, which probably doesn’t help the last little bits of guilt that I got rattling around in me.”

Lena nods. “I understand the feeling.”

Maggie considers her, this Luthor sitting across from her. Levels an easy grin at the CEO.

“I know you do. Not easy to get rid of, is it?”

“If only,” Lena says with a wry twist of her mouth.

"Well, damn.” Maggie sighs. “Y’know, for a long time even after I’d accepted myself for being gay, I still…couldn’t bring myself to really daydream of the reality I wanted, you know?” 

She taps the sugar packet on the table and looks up at Lena. "Or least, to daydream of it in a way that meant I wasn’t afraid of getting it. It’s like - I dunno, wanting to skydive. Thinking that it’s a nice ‘someday’ thought to have, maybe even something you really want, but at the same time kind of knowing that you’re never actually going to do it.”

She grins. “Took moving to a city to get rid of that. First time a girl hit on me it was like whoah! All of a sudden I’m a thousand miles up with a parachute on my back, getting ready to jump. It became  _real_ , you know?”

Lena smirks. The pancakes on her plate are slowly being carved into perfectly symmetrical pieces.

“I never had that experience, to be honest. Private school was…eye-opening.”

“I’ll bet.”

“It wasn’t without its fair share of conservatism, given the views of our donors,” Lena says, “but the girls themselves were generally too busy with schoolwork and classes and at least eight different extracurriculars to give a damn about who kissed whom. I had the benefit, I suppose, of older girls who were more confident in their sexuality than I was.” She takes a bite of her pancake. “You know, Cassidy Lynch flirted with me the whole first month I was there. I had no idea. And then one day she kissed me in the laundry room.”

“Niiiiice. Wish I’d had that.”

“Not many queer women in Nebraska?”

“None my age, no. In retrospect, pretty sure that my fifth-grade teacher Miss Montoya had a thing with our substitute teacher. And even if I didn’t know that then, I definitely picked up on enough that my first crush was on her.” She points the sugar packet at Lena. “Classic case of a gay awakening.”

Lena nods. “It’s easier after the first time. God, that sounds so clinical.”

“Hah!” Maggie leans back in her seat, rips the sugar packet and dumps it in her refill. “That’s what she said." 

“Oh, I’m sure. So, Nebraska?”

Maggie snorts. “Glad to be out of that state, for sure. Though it’s like the religion thing – you never really leave a certain piece of it behind. Easier to forget, at least.”

Lena tilts her head encouragingly. Maggie sighs, gets started on demolishing her eggs.

“Sunday mornings. I still find myself getting up stupidly early most weekends, even when Alex is over. Thank God she’s a heavy sleeper, right, or else I’d have to explain why I’m pacing the kitchen with my headphones in, listening to hymns. I can’t leave it all behind. Wish I could. Really, really wish I could."

Lena contemplates her in silence, eyes searching. Reaches out a manicured hand to wrap solidly around her coffee, takes a long sip.

“There’s a copy of Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poems that my grandfather loved. My grandmother would scoff a bit – isn’t it rich to read a Catholic poet? But he loved Hopkins, he truly did. I think that was the only religious thing he loved besides my grandmother herself. Otherwise, he was completely carefree – a secular man. That poetry was his one sacred thing. It wasn’t until years after the death of both of my grandparents that I thought about Hopkins again.” Lena pauses, puts her mug down. 

“Jess, she’s my secretary, she has her desk right outside my office. She’s been with me throughout most of my time with the company. During the year or so before we met, she was largely confined to cramped cubicles. They moved her to the lower basement once during renovations, and from what she’s told me even the nicer work locations were marred by sexist coworkers. And of course, the standard drab office surroundings. Lex was never really an aesthetically-minded person, he had…other focuses.”

She clears her throat.

"Anyway, a few weeks after Jess and I first moved into the new building in National City, I noticed a small plaque on her desk. It’s got tiny writing on it, I was curious. She showed it me and it says – hah, oh God – it says, ‘Motherfucking beige shit it’s beige motherfucker get some feng shui all right up in this shit fuck damn.’” 

“Really? Oh my God, that’s great. Why does she have that?”

“It was from a sticky note early on in her career. Some bad day or other made worse by all that beige they used to have in the old offices. She kept the note, says it helped her power through, gave her freedom to laugh at the pure ugly of it all. So shortly after she got promoted to my assistant, she went out and got the plaque made up.” 

Lena hesitates, seems to search for the right words.

“I suppose what I mean to say is that there’s something satisfying about taking others’ conventions and reinventing them for our own purposes. I don’t attend Mass very often, but when I do, it still somehow manages to be sacred for me. And when it doesn’t, at least I feel pleasantly spiteful. I, a Luthor and a lesbian, can sit in those pews with the rest of them and remake the face of the divine into a kinder countenance in any way I wish.”

Maggie grins through a forkful of eggs.

“Whoa, there, Hopkins. You getting sappy on me?” Lena rolls her eyes. “Nah, I get it. It’s taking what others say you can’t have and saying, fuck it, I’m going to call this mine anyway. It’s mine. My good thing…” She gestures with her fork, swallows a bite. “…because I _make_ it good.”

There’s a brief silence.

“…Like Kara.” Maggie freezes - just for a millisecond, the barest millisecond - before putting down her fork and listening.

“Lex would…” Lena looks down at the table. “It goes without saying what Lex would think.” Perfectly manicured hands cling together. “Not so much because Kara is a woman, but because she’s…”

“Supergirl?”

“Yes. And - it’s a bit ridiculous, I know. I keep tearing myself up over this, and for what reason? I certainly don’t give a damn what the Church says. And Lex, _my_ Lex, he would’ve loved me, whatever else he might have thought.” She looks out the window, brow furrowed.

"I think at first I expected Kara to be like any other woman I’ve taken to bed. Simple, easy, fun. But here I am, and I’m - I’m like _this_ ,” she says with a wry chuckle, "and we haven’t even kissed yet and - and she is everything.” Her last words are soft. Maggie watches her. Waits a minute before replying.

“If anyone understands love, it’s Kara. That woman’s got enough in her heart to fuel the whole damn planet, and more.” She lowers her head, makes sure Lena’s looking her in the eyes. “You oughta let her know, Lena. She’ll – it’ll be good. It will be.”

“It’s that obvious, then?” Lena smiles, eyes watery, hands shaking a little.

“Honey,” Maggie says. “You look at her like she put the stars in the sky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from ‘Innocent Bones’ by Iron & Wine. Next chapter will see an interaction between Maggie and Kara.
> 
>    
> Me: This'll be quick & easy!  
> *3,500+ words later*  
> Me: ...Fuck.


	3. from frantic nights I wear like a neon crown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter but man, it was hard to wrangle together.
> 
> This is an alternate ending to 2x07 and takes place a few months before the previous chapter. Title is from 'Don't Put Your Faith In Me' by The Crookes.

 

   

_You know I can be someone to rely on; you can count on me to fuck it up_

_but I can’t give you anything you’re after._

_I’m a magnet for bad luck._

_No, don’t find hidden meanings in my words babe; most things I say, well, I don’t mean._

_If you’re looking for a friend, well, I can be one_

_but don’t put your faith in me.  
_

 

_\- Don’t Put Your Faith in Me - The Crookes_

  

\----

   

“Maggie, wait, hey. Can I talk to you for a bit?”

She turns and it’s Alex’s sister striding across the parking lot, the hem of her cardigan fluttering behind her.

“Little Danvers. What can I do for you?” She looks almost surprised at Maggie’s cordial tone. She quickly recovers and adopts a serious face. 

“I want to hear what you have to say.”

Maggie raises an eyebrow. “About?” Kara looks unamused, so Maggie lifts her hands and lets them fall to her sides. 

“I shouldn’t have pushed. Story of my life, really, but I shouldn’t have. I wanted her to have what I didn’t have, to have someone in your corner rooting for you.” 

“She has me! She always has!” 

“Yeah, but she didn’t know that, Little Danvers. There’s a world of difference between knowing that someone has your back and asking them to step up.”

“She knows-“ Maggie cuts Kara off.

“What’s your deepest secret?” She meets her startled gaze and refuses to look away. “What’s something that is so much a part of you that it’s physical, that you couldn’t separate it from yourself even if you wanted to? You got something like that, Little Danvers?” 

The barest hint of a nod. 

“Alright. How easy would it be for you to tell someone that secret?"

Kara doesn’t move. Maggie sighs and sinks back against the car. It’s cool out this evening, night solidly fallen. All around them streetlights buzz. Lines of light strike the asphalt in soft patterns. Above them, the walls of Alex’s apartment building stretch up, windows all a mosaic of lights on and off and tiny silhouettes moving in short bursts through the frames. Silence hangs stuffy in the air until Maggie takes a deep breath.

“I like your sister. Like, _like_ -like.” She instantly runs a hand over her face. “God, what am I, ten? Forget I said that. Forget…I just, I just wanted to be selfless for once, you know?” 

“By breaking her heart?”

“That’s not-“ Maggie can feel her face crumpling. Kara must see it too, because the steel look on her face softens a fraction.

"She’s new,” Maggie says quietly. “This isn’t about worrying that she’ll find someone better, though let’s be honest, she deserves so much more than…it’s-“ She sighs heavily and stares up at the sky. “It’s about the first time, Little Danvers. And the second.” 

“The second?” Kara says, eyes narrowed. Maggie chuckles humorlessly. 

“Being gay is so hard sometimes, like, meeting someone you really like who is queer and actually likes _you_ is - well, it’s a little difficult. And it’s so tempting when you meet someone who is all of that to want to have it all, all at once, everything that you never quite got when growing up because this, _this_ is what finally feels right. And it’s good, it’s amazing. But it’s all bubble-gum pink and there’s more colors than that, you know? That’s just the first.”

“There’s so much more out there. And it’s beautiful,” she says. "It’s empowering. You learn a little more about yourself with every person and that feels _good_.” She looks Kara in the eye.

"I want her to have that. To not wake up and be stuck with…someone like me,” she waves a hand, “who’s been around the block and come back to do it again, and again, and - I’m tired, Kara. I can be a friend and I can be someone to play pool with, to - to come back to and say, ‘Hey, I just had the most amazing first date.’”

She closes her eyes. "I can do that, Kara. I want to be that for her, because that’s all I can give that wouldn’t be asking for too much, for everything at once, before she gets a chance to try anything else."

For a while it’s quiet. Maggie feels a breeze coming from 28th Street. Someone’s radio plays from a window far above them. Then Kara begins to speak.

“I’m a foster child. Alex is…she is the whole world to me. And she gives so much of herself to make sure that I’m okay, that I’m safe - not that I’m in danger or anything,” Kara laughs, sounding a bit strained. “She just, um, she’s protective. W-what I’m saying is, I can’t remember the last time she told me she wanted something that wasn’t, like, a donut or some way to get out of doing paperwork or a day off. And she wants you."

She hesitates, fisting a hand in the material of her maroon cardigan. "I think you’d be good for her. I also think that you don’t get a choice in whether or not she cares for you - _how_ she cares about you. You don’t get to write the terms of your relationship, or your friendship. You do that together, you make that decision  _together_." 

Her foot taps the ground fast and her body is tense, as though it’s taking so much energy to find the right words that the excess has to bleed out somehow. Then the younger Danvers looks up at Maggie so intently that she’s a little taken aback. 

“Aren’t you ever scared? As a detective, I mean. Don't you ever get scared that something awful’s going to happen, in the middle of all your everything, just boom! Life over?"

“Would I be in this job if was afraid of dying?"

“No, not-“ Kara huffs, sounding frustrated. "It’s not dying you should be afraid of. It’s letting people go without them ever knowing how much they mean to you.”

For a minute, it’s like gravity works a little harder on this gentle woman; there’s a certain weight to her, a solidity. She stands there in the parking lot and it feels somehow smaller. Her presence niggles at something in the back of Maggie’s mind. Then she fidgets with her glasses and the image slips away.

“Alex’s job isn’t the safest. And I wonder sometimes, is today the day I’m going to get a call? Is today the day I won’t be fast enough - I won’t - they can’t help her in time?” She’s pacing now, hands gesturing.

“It’s hard. Really hard. Because she was the first for me here, when I came here - was adopted, and everything hurt and was new. I wouldn’t give that up for anything. She is my second and my third and everything after that, and Maggie, she knows that.” Kara says it so earnestly. “She didn’t have to be the big sister she is. I was thirteen when I came to them, she was sixteen, we didn’t know each other at all. And still…I look at other families where siblings hate each other and I think, how is that possible? When I have Alex, how is that possible?”

She shakes her head. “And then I realize that it’s Alex. She’s the missing piece. It’s all her.”

"I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or tonight, even. But things happen! All the time! When you’re thirteen, or nearly thirty.” A shift in posture, closer to that gravity from earlier. “I don’t know when I’m going to get that phone call. But I know I don’t want to wait for it. She’s too important."

And Kara smiles, one of those damn sunshine bright smiles Maggie’s heard about from Alex. It’s different in person. It’s as though she’s trying her hardest to warm the world up — a one-person space heater radiating goodness into the universe.

“Just think on it a little, okay? Have a good night, Maggie.” Kara turns and walks back to the building, hands in her cardigan pockets, and disappears through the building doors.

Maggie cranes her head to look up at the windows, the bricks between, then leans back further so she’s looking at the night sky. From this angle her whole field of vision is black and blue. Black and blue and green at the edges where the city lights drain the sky.

It’s beautiful. She hurts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An aside! Part of my motivation for making this chapter was that I think Maggie’s reasoning ("I almost died!") in 2x08 is lovely, but a bit hard to believe. She’s a detective investigating alien matters; a life-and-death encounter while caring for someone has probably happened before. It needed a bit more, is all - this was my way of nudging the idea forward.
> 
> The bit about Kara's smile is inspired by that one Tumblr post about why we get cold. (Speaking of, you can find me there @ nowavailableinthesky.)
> 
> Next chapter, we touch on Maggie and Alex interacting again. Expect some seriousness but mostly fluff.


End file.
